There Was A Town But It Was As Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

There Was A Town But It Was As



Of centuries.

Then it became a ghost town
Of dilapidated buildings.

The winds liked it as a magnet
Whirling around.

There they would sing their sad
Hearts out in solitude

Round the wide desert of solitude
Stretched.

Yet in the Night with ghosts and shrouds
Roamed Inner Souls.

I see Hope move away before the Dawn
It comes at night then leaves.

The days always rise drear even in Spring
When some wayward flowers blossoms.

And in the winter there’s the feast of
Dread storms all time, all hoar and ever.

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